keeper (d. Hale)

rag doll.

She pulled it over her head and let him arrange the arms as he sat her gently on the end of the bed. The cuffs were rolled up and she held in a breath to stop her wince when he gently touched the bruised skin.

Derek yanked the sleeve up and examined his wife's marred skin. The tick to his jaw was back.

With out her head pressed into his neck she could now see the blue of his eyes and his fanged mouth that was now threatening to let out a guttural roar of anger.

Derek pulled his leather jacket on top of the sweater she was wearing as he let out a grunt while he rolled his shoulder. He turned from her and quickly peeled his slashed shirt from his back. The fabric gave a sickening crunch as it gave way from his skin and the movement opened the semi healing scab, causing fresh blood to drip down his back.

Delilah reached out to touch the cut, attempting to catch a rivet of blood as it reached the small of his back. She wanted to clean it. Remove the blood, stitch the skin and sit back while she watched it heal.

Her fingers barely grazed Derek before he turned to catch her hand in his own. They were pushed away and covered with her gloves.

She frowned as he didn't even let her swish away the fly that annoying buzzed close to his skin. It was probably attracted to the oozing blood.

Derek pulled on a clean shirt. It was long sleeved and red. Delilah watched as his wound vanished from her view and he touched something in his pocket once it was adjusted to match the waist of his jeans.

He pulled Delilah back into his arms and paused for a moment. She looked up at him with patient yet unsure eyes.

As gently as possible he cradled her against his body, resting her chin on shoulder and adjusting her legs to wrap around his waist. Delilah felt like a child as Derek carried her out the bedroom door and down the main staircase.

Issac and Peter were in the living room as they passed. Peter with a bag of ice on his head and Issac with a stack of books scattered around his feet.

They both stood at the sound of Derek's steps on the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Issac asked.

Derek ignored.

Peter took a step forward, a worried expression on his face as he heard the growling vibrating from his nephew.

"It's okay."Delilah reassured them.

Derek was pulling the front door open and marching out into the cold. He must have started the car from inside the house as the cruiser was warm when he carefully slide Delilah into the passenger seat. He grabbed a blanket from the truck and used it to tuck Delilah in before he closed his door to open his own.

"Der, where are we going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

He didn't answer past that and instead placed a hand on her thigh and started down the preserve road.

Delilah watched the scenery changed from trees, to houses and then apartment buildings as they crept closer the heart of Beacon Hills.

His hand rubbed soothing circles against her blanket covered leg as he kept his eyes set on the road before pulling into an open spot on a side street.

He opened his door and Delilah moved to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"No," Derek said as his hand rested on hers to stop her. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you-"

Derek quickly kissed Delilah, stopping her from asking her question.

"I need to do something for us. I'll be right back."